


Ginger

by starlitseas



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Death, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, enjoy the angst!, i'm flying by the seat of my pants so this won't be updated as much as i want it to be, the tags are going to change a bunch as the story is updated kjldgm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitseas/pseuds/starlitseas
Summary: He was very sick.There was nothing anyone or anything could have done.But after taking lives for so long, he's finally created one.And she's beautiful.





	1. prologue

He had known his time was coming.

He had known it for a long time now, and, while it chilled him to the core, it also gave him some vague sense of ease. Oblivion was always a cold absolute in the entity's life, and like he had went after his own prey so many times, oblivion was finally coming for him.

As he walked through the forest of his ancestors, he could feel his joints already beginning to stiffen. He had to move quickly if he wanted to get to where he wanted _—_  no,  _needed_ _—_  to go. He had been planning this ever since he began to feel his powers shriveling away. He just needed to get there before his body locked up any further.  
  
It wasn't exactly wise of him to go to this place in particular, not unless he wanted his family line to end right there, but he didn't fancy himself as someone worthy of continuing his legacy.  
  
His feet began to catch on the ground, root-like structures already slowly growing from his heels.  
  
_Quickly, now,_ he thought, _you're almost there._  
  
He picked up his feet higher as his walking turned into a feeble sprint. He was far from his glory days where he could simply concentrate on a place and end up there on his own accord. In his mind, he was no better than mankind at this point. In fact, he almost thought he wasn't going to make it to that special place, but he had to make it. He absolutely had to.

As he was beginning to lose hope as the roots became more and more stubborn in their grip on the ground, there it was.

It was an idyllic clearing. None of his kind had ever made it here before, and it was apparent by the lack of trees.

He was lucky.

Ever since he was a child, he had loved this place. He would always come here to think when the pains of growing up were getting him down. Though he was tempted to stop and dwell on his thoughts as he did in his youth, he couldn't stop here. He had to make it to the exact place in the meadow where he wanted to rest, just like before when he was young.

However, it became apparent that the roots in his heels starting to inch into the ground underneath him. It was already the beginning of his end.

But he wouldn't be powerless against it.

With a pained scream, he forced his feet back up above ground and began to hurry toward the center of this marvelous meadow. His body was creaking against him, begging for rest and mercy, but he persisted. Despite thinking he didn't deserve much good in his life, he desperately wanted something good in his death.

As he stumbled forward into the open field, he could feel his skin contorting and twisting into something resembling bark.

_Quickly, quickly._

The journey was taxing, but he made it. He would've cried out of sheer joy had his body allowed him to do so, but all he could do was shake. The burning in his feet subsided as the roots, now numerous and thick, began to dig into the ground once again.

 And it was okay.

Everything was finally going to be okay.

Sure, he was still estranged from his surviving family to a degree and, yes, he was truly dying now, but he accepted it all.

As his body began to twist and move of its own accord, he was at peace.

He sighed.

He had always enjoyed the scenery here. The blue sky seemed to reach out to him as he looked upward.

It was nice to see it one last time.

Did he have regrets? Of course he did, but they were far from his foggy mind. He wanted to focus on one in particular, but he couldn't remember that person's face anymore.

Lingering regrets or not, as he finally settled into the dying transformation _—_ his swan song _—_ he was grateful.

He was grateful that, in his last moments, he had known that his time was coming.

He had known it for a long time now.  
  


* * *

  
Someone was calling out for him, but it was too late. A gorgeous weeping willow stood where the entity rested for the last time, its tendrils gently swaying in the wind. It was evening now, but the soft glow of the setting sun only made the sight even more beautiful.  
  
The beauty, however, fell short to the someone who was looking for the dearly departed. That someone knew immediately what had happened upon seeing the tree, for he was just the same as the lost one. As the someone wept under the willow tree, he made a promise to himself.  
  
When it came time to go, his body would grow into flowers under this tree. He wanted lilies and poppies to sprout from his ribs _,_ for a garden to escape from his lungs, all in memoriam.  
  
But there was no time for that right now.  
  
"Of all places, brother," the young someone sobbed, "Why here?"  
  
He somberly took his hat off and plucked the daisy from it.  
  
"It's not much, but I'll come back with more," he said. "I'm sorry."  
  
He gently placed the daisy at the trunk of the tree.  
  
_"I'm so sorry."_


	2. growth

The child grew from a sprout at the base of a mighty weeping willow tree, a flower in its own right.

It was also quite the spitting image of its father. It didn't know that yet, or really have the concept of what a 'father' was ingrained into its fledgling brain yet, but it had all of his best qualities. The child was only just a few months old, but it was already quiet and had the beginnings of a strong nose.

Its first memory was of the cold. The weather was very cold when it was born, but as it grew legs and arms, the snow that covered its form melted away and it was finally free to move around.

The first thing it did when it managed to stand up was run.

It ran through its birth meadow as fast as it was able to with its new legs, nearly slipping multiple times on the dewy grass. Its legs burned and it got tired easily, but it loved it. It needed more immediately, but it had to return to the weeping willow before night fell. Like many young children, the child was afraid of the dark. The willow, however, made it feel safe. It could sleep easy with the earthy tendrils of the tree gently swaying above it, the wind whispering a sweet lullaby.

Sometimes the tree would get a visitor— a tall, tall being with a perpetual smile plastered to his face— but the child would hide by the other trees when he came around. The visitor was so strange. He always brought flowers similar to the ones sprouting at the base of the tree, but sometimes he would just stand there, rain pouring from the pitch black orbs on his head while he made strange, hiccuping noises. The child found it all very curious, but it never got up the courage to meet the visitor.

It wasn't until one day that the child had any interaction at all with anybody, but it wasn't with the strange visitor.

The child was swimming in the river nearby when it spotted a young girl. She seemed alone like the visitor always was, but she was easier to comprehend. Yes, she had structures on her head similar to the visitor, but she was small just like the child. She was even quiet as she played in the woods by herself and had the beginnings of a strong nose, which the child liked quite a lot. Making its way up the creek toward the little girl, the child laid low as it watched her.

But even the sneakiest of children get caught eventually.

The little girl jumped at the sight of the child, but wasn't very much affected by its lack of eyes or a mouth, or even proper clothing for that matter.

"Hello?" the little girl asked.

The child paused and peeked out of the water. The girl stared at the child for a moment, inspecting its bald, smooth head.

"Did you have cancer, too?", she asked it.

The child tilted its head quizzically at her.

"It's okay," the little girl said, teetering on her heels, "My mommy and daddy got rid of it for me, so it's not contagious!"

The child felt an internal smile creeping up on them. This girl was winning it over with her new words.

"What's your name?" the little girl asked cheerfully. "Mine's Ginger!"

A name? What was a 'name'? The child quickly looked for an answer in the girl's, Ginger's, words.

"...Mine's Ginger!", the child chirped back. It hurt to speak, and there was even a squelching sound as the child's jaw unlocked for the first time to open its mouth, but the child felt that it was worth it to mimic Ginger.

The first Ginger didn't seem to mind, and simply said, "I like you, Ginger! Wanna be friends?"

The visitor had mentioned that concept once when he was talking to the child's tree, so at least it knew what that meant.

"Yes!", Ginger the faceless child smiled widely. It tested the word on its tongue.

"Friends."

The human Ginger opened her mouth to speak again, but she was cut off by two distinct voices calling her name.

"Oh, that's mommy and daddy..." Ginger frowned, looking over her shoulder momentarily before looking back at the faceless Ginger. "I'll be back tomorrow, though! Wait for me, okay?"

The faceless Ginger nodded quickly, still smiling. It had finally made a friend.

Ginger spent that night eagerly babbling its new words to its weeping willow, as a toddler would to its proud parent. The tree didn't respond, but the faceless Ginger still wrapped its arms around the willow tight.

Little did the faceless Ginger know, however, that its meeting with the human Ginger, would prompt a period of starvation.

It hadn't learnt how to eat yet, after all.

The two Gingers played together the next day, as promised, but something inside of the faceless child ate away at it. The faceless Ginger briefly wondered if this was what the word 'cancer' meant, but the original Ginger said it could be rid somehow, so the faceless child didn't worry too much.

The two were eventually back on the riverside, feet soaking in the cool water. After a natural, prolonged silence, the human girl looked over at the faceless child in curiosity.

"Are you a boy or a girl?", she asked.

The faceless Ginger mulled it over. It had no clue what those things were yet. They were new concepts to wrap its brain around, and the faceless child was already excited to tackle them.

"What are those?" it asked in reply.

"Oh!" the original Ginger smiled. "A boy is a...! A..."

She stopped there, her own young mind not necessarily 'getting' the concept of gender yet, either. She fidgeted with her dress a bit in confusion.

"Hmmm... Well, I'm a girl!" she remarked confidently. "And Mommy's a girl, too... And Daddy's a boy."

There seemed to be more girls than boys here, so the faceless Ginger decided that it must be a girl, too. The faceless Ginger, now a girl in her own right, briefly wondered if her birth tree was a boy or a girl, too. What a new conundrum!

"I'm a girl," the faceless Ginger beamed just as confidently as her human counterpart.

Ginger let go of her dress and grinned at the faceless Ginger.

"I knew it!"

Popping onto her feet, she grabbed the faceless girl's hand and continued to grin at her.

"We have a lot in common! Don't we?"

The faceless girl nodded at Ginger in excitement. She didn't have much to say, but she enjoyed spending time with this girl and listening to her talk.

"Then we're going to be the best of friends!", the human girl giggled, pulling the faceless girl up to her feet. It was time to get back to playing again, lest the original Ginger's parents call out for her before the two could get a chance to tucker themselves out even more.

Despite their fun during the day, the pit in the blank girl's stomach grew through it to that evening.

She was beginning to come to the conclusion had to eat something— anything— but she didn't want to scare her new friend. She then began to wonder just  _how_  she would manage to scare her by eating. Of course, she'd seen her friend eat fresh blueberries from a clear bag when she was hungry, and that didn't scare her one bit. So, how would the act suddenly become frightening if  _she_  did it herself?

It eventually came time to part once more for the night, as the bright-eyed girl's parents called for her once again.

"You'll wait for me again, won't you?" Ginger asked expectantly.

The other Ginger smiled as best she could, a bit self-conscious because of her previous thoughts, "I'll wait."  
  
As both girls knew that "waiting" in this case meant waiting out the sun and not just waiting by the edge of the woods all night, the Gingers went back to their respective homes. The Ginger who lived in a house walked off to her parents' car with mother, father, and daughter walking hand in hand.  
  
The Ginger from the meadow strolled back to her home alone. She didn't particularly mind the loneliness of her short journey, but it just made it hard to not focus on the growing hunger in her gut.  
  
Upon settling down at the base off her tree, she looked up past the branches and the hanging vines. The stars in the sky shone down on the clearing, giving it a hazy glow. She was just about to go to sleep for the night when she heard the weak chattering of a squirrel.  
  
Most animals were asleep by now, but not this one. This squirrel, one that had been around her tree many times, dazedly skittered up Ginger's weeping willow. All she could do was watch as the slow thing settled itself on a branch above her. She could tell that it was sick, and had been so for a long time.  
  
Her stomach gurgled looking at it.  
  
Without warning, she felt sharp pains in her back and around her jaw. Black, spindly tendrils snapped to life and grabbed the squirrel before her. It squeaked dreadfully as it was pulled toward the faceless girl, struggling to get away. Her jaw started to open up on its own, a terrible ripping sound echoing throughout the empty meadow.

The poor thing was down her gullet within seconds.  
  
She was satiated for now, but she had finally understood why her hunger would scare the human Ginger.

After a dip in the river to wash the blood away from her molting body, she solemnly promised herself that she would never allow that girl— her best friend— to see her eat.

Little did she know that most promises crumble and drift away like silt from the riverbed in her hands.


	3. hunger

Since the two Gingers met in the spring of that year, the Ginger of the woods had learnt plenty of new words and concepts from her best friend. She loved it all and she absolutely craved more, but, at the same time, she was wasting away from other, more concrete, and more visceral cravings.

It was summer, now, and the two were beating the sluggish heat by staying under the protective cover of the trees.

"It's okay," the naive human Ginger said during one of those summer days, thinking her friend was ill just as she was. "My mommy and daddy can help you like they helped me."

The two girls were sharing cold strawberries from a plastic container. Well, not exactly, because the nonhuman girl couldn't properly eat in front of her friend without breaking the promise she made to herself. Though, when the smiling girl born from flesh and blood told the girl born from the soil, she simply stared at her.

"They can help?" the blank girl asked. If she had a face, it'd be scrunched up in pain. The next best thing was a simple frown with the mouth torn from rough skin.

"Mhm!" the original Ginger said. "I used to be hungry a lot when I was sick, too!"

The human girl picked up one of the strawberries and raised it to her friend's mouth.

"Fruit's good for you," she remarked innocently. "Eat up."

Remembering the promise she made to herself, the faceless Ginger shrugged lightly and casually turned the strawberry toward the human girl's mouth instead. After a moment of surprise, the human Ginger giggled and ate it, and then ended up patting the faceless girl's head.

"You'll be okay, I promise!"

The woodland girl managed to smile, "Thanks..."

After finishing off the container of strawberries together, the two chattered amongst themselves. It wasn't until an unexpected itch on the nonhuman's shoulder caught the original Ginger's attention.

"Oh! You got something..."

The first Ginger reached over to the second's shoulder. It looked as if a wood chip simply fell on her, but when Ginger went to brush it off, it remained stuck to her skin stubbornly.

The second Ginger winced when the first pulled it off. A black sap-like liquid quickly pooled on top of the skin where the chip was. The human girl frowned.

"Oops..."

After throwing the chip to the side, she simply looked at her faceless friend with worry, "You must be pretty sick, huh?"

The faceless Ginger didn't know what to do in reply other than nod. Even  _she_  didn't know what was going on with her body on top of the ever-present hunger, so it must have been some kind of sickness.

"Lemme go get momma! She'll make it better!"

The faceless Ginger didn't have a very good feeling about this idea. For some reason, the idea of meeting her best friend's parents seemed like a bad one to her. She nodded again, regardless.

The human girl ran off toward the end of the forest, back near the trails.

It didn't take long for her to return with an older woman, pointing, "Mommy, mommy! Ginger's sick!"

"Aw, hon, imaginary friends can't get sick," the woman could be heard replying gently.

The girl under the tree's nonface scrunched up. Imaginary? Was she saying that she didn't think she was real? How rude!

"No, mommy, she's real!" the human Ginger retorted, tugging on her mother's shirt. "And she's sick like I was sick!"

The closer the sound of their footsteps got, the more tense the Ginger under the tree became. She was as rigid as a statue when her gaze finally met the woman's gaze. It took a second for the woman to even begin to take in the second Ginger's form.

But, when she did, her face paled and she immediately grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and backed away with her, pulling the young girl away from her friend.

"What is that thing!?" the woman screamed.

"She's not a  _thing_ , she's my friend!" Ginger yelled over her mother, struggling against her. "You have to help her!"

"Is this what you were playing with this whole time!?" the woman shrilled in anxiety, keeping a tight grip on her thrashing daughter. "Ginger, it's— It's not even human or— or  _anything!_ "

The forlorn forest child's body went numb. She forced herself to slowly stand to her feet, causing the hysterical mother to shove her daughter behind her.

"D-don't come any closer!" she yelled. "I'm warning you!"

The Ginger who stood under the tree didn't respond for a bit, leaving the first Ginger's mother shaking. The only thing keeping the situation from being completely silent was that the human girl was still struggling to get free. It felt like an eternity before either party said or did anything.

The faceless girl spoke up first.

"So you're not helping me?" she asked in defeat, her voice unintentionally small.

Ginger's mother didn't respond, still staring at the saddened girl.

"You're not... Helping me at all?", the girl asked again.

Something bubbled in her throat, and she was vaguely reminded of the hiccupping visitor who came to her birth tree every now and then. If this was even a fraction of the pain he felt while standing there, she finally understood the act of crying.

"...You listen, and you listen closely," Ginger's mother finally said, voice unwavering and cold. "I almost lost my baby once, and I'm not about to lose her again. Especially not to something like  _you_."

Her words hurt, but the girl underneath the tree was already numb.

"You don't deserve her name or her company," the woman continued. "If I find out that you hurt her in any way, I swear I'll—"

She was swiftly cut off by her Ginger biting down on her arm, causing her to yell in pain and let go of her.

**_"Ginger!"_ **

The girl started running over to her friend, but at this point, the woodland Ginger just wanted to go back to the base of her tree and curl up. The thought was so strong and vivid that she was consumed by it. She desperately wanted it to happen, and she wanted it to happen right  _now_.

The girl disappeared as soon as her best friend made it over to her, arms outstretched. The human girl caught herself on the tree the two of them were sitting under not so long ago, shocked that her friend simply vanished into thin air. She began patting at the tree and looking around frantically, tears pouring down her face.

But her faceless Ginger was safe in her meadow. She was away from the yelling, the fear, and the crying, and all she could hear now were the sounds of cicadas buzzing their daily summer song. Taking in all of what just happened, the blank slate of a girl looked around the place she called home. Her breath audibly hitched, and she fell to her knees and began sobbing. She didn't know where she got the energy to wail from, being so hungry and weak, but she somehow managed it.

And no matter how much she didn't want to believe it, she was a smart girl and figured out that that was the beginning of the end for her and the only one she loved.

Countless days and nights passed in a dreary blur since then.

The girl who sprouted up from the earth itself didn't move an inch from her spot at the base of the tree, and she didn't want to. She hoped that the soil would take her back if she laid quietly and still enough, but her wishes were never granted.

She eventually got back up, though. She had to. It was getting to be a bit boring just laying there for days on end, anyway.  
  
She looked up at her weeping willow.

"What should I do?" she asked it quietly.

There was no response. She figured that as much, since it hadn't ever talked to her personally in her short life, but she felt that if she spoke to it like the visitor occasionally spoke to it, something good would come of it.

"Do you think I'll ever see her again?" she continued. "I feel bad without her."

The tree remained quiet, but the evening wind picked up, causing the vines to sway gently in the direction of the river. Looking back in the direction of the forest toward the river, she figured that had to have counted as a proper response. Didn't it? She looked back at her tree.

"...You're right," she said to it. "Thank you."

Getting up from the ground and brushing herself off, the girl headed to the river. She needed to get the grime off of her, anyway, and a dip in the water could possibly help clear her mind.

She was still a child who was afraid of the dark, but with her birth tree's "blessing", she wasn't that scared anymore.

When she got to the riverbank, she was surprised by a familiar sight.

It was her.

The moonlight glistened off of the water and reflected onto her dress. It took the forest girl's breath away.

Goodness, it was  _her_.

Ginger turned her head to look at her best friend and smiled.

"You... Came back for me?" the faceless girl asked in shock.

"I had to sneak away, but..." Ginger smiled brightly at her. "I have to help you!"

She then began to fumble for something in her skirt pocket, but was interrupted by the second Ginger pulling her into a tight hug.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" the child of bark involuntarily cried. Her face felt wet already as she continued to chant it like a prayer and she pulled her friend closer and tighter, "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd never see you again! I thought I'd never see you ever, ever, ever again.  _I thought_ —"

"It's okay!" The first Ginger said, nuzzling her cheek against the other Ginger's cheek. After she had her fill of affection from the mannequin-like girl, she gently wriggled out of her grasp and reached into her pocket again.

Removing her hand from her pocket, she revealed a handful of pills. She gingerly placed them into her best friend's hands.

"Take these," she said. "I don't need them anymore."

The second Ginger looked down at the pills in her pale hands, then back up at the first Ginger.

"What are they?" she asked. "Are they food?"

The first Ginger shook her head, "No... They're a special medicine. They'll help you!"

"Just swallow them whole with some—"

The nonhuman immediately swallowed them all on command. It wasn't the same as eating, so she figured that it was okay to take them in front of the human girl without breaking her promise.

After a pause, the human girl started laughing as the nonhuman girl coughed a bit.

"You need water with them, silly!" she giggled as she patted the young forest entity's back.

"Ah," Ginger replied to the human Ginger, stifling another cough. She knelt to get some water from the river, and drank it from her hands greedily. She then smiled nervously at her, water still dripping from her crooked mouth.

She was just happy to be reunited with  _her_  Ginger.

The child of the forest began taking pills snuck to her from that night forward. She still was terribly hungry, and they didn't seem to be doing anything to her, but taking them made her Ginger smile, and that's all that mattered.

However, it seemed that the two's secret happiness would be short-lived, as the medicine-providing Ginger's illness began to re-emerge.

The forest dweller could see it very clearly, now. In the way she moved in a daze, how she sometimes stumbled and had to sit down for the rest of their night together, how she had to lie— and the forest dweller knew she was lying to her— and say she was just coughing because she choked on some of her own spit; The signs of her end were growing apparent, and it all reminded her of the sickly squirrel she devoured so long ago.

Her stomach growled dangerously at the memory.


	4. halt

"Mommy and Daddy want to take me back to the hospital, soon."

Those words just about broke her heart. They haunted her during the day and left her wondering if this night or the next was their last night together. She knew her namesake was getting sicker by the day, and she couldn't help but to feel that it was all her fault. Intrusive thoughts swarmed her mind. She couldn't handle this on top of the everlasting starvation she'd been facing for almost more than half a year now.  
  
Yes, she was learning how to hunt in the depths of the forest by daylight, but it was getting to the point where nothing satisfied her. Whatever she got her hands on and her tendrils through— squirrels, raccoons, even baby deer—was never enough.  
  
Of course she had to hide this from her best friend; the best friend who her chest tightened up around— the best friend who was so free with her affections and so carefree and lovely, but also so  _clueless._ Her Ginger wasn't easy to scare, but the nonhuman girl still feared the consequences of her ever finding out about her stifled cravings for raw meat and the delicious iron that came with it.  
  
Much to her horror, when she gazed upon her ill friend, brief flashes of her first kill came back to her and her stomach tied itself into painful knots.  
  
But she tried to shake it off, to push those thoughts back down into the depths where they came from. Besides, she had no time to think about her hunger right now, as the two girls were in the middle of trying to figure out what exactly the Ginger of the woods was. It had came up recently as the girl recalled her Ginger's mother's repulsion— how she said she wasn't  _anything_.  
  
Of course the girls were on the case as they sat together on the riverbank, their feet soaking once again in the river.  
  
"I think you're a fairy," the human Ginger said, her eyes half-closed in relaxation. "Granny used to read me stories about fairies all the time before she had to go to the hospital too..."  
  
The faceless Ginger simply adjusted her sitting position a bit and looked over quizzically.  
  
"What's a fairy?", she asked.  
  
"They protect the forest!" the human girl said with a big smile. "They're born in the forest, they live in the forest... Granny also said that they're tricky, but won't hurt you if you were nice to them."  
  
"...Am I tricky?"  
  
"You can be," the smiling Ginger replied casually.  
  
"So, I must be a fairy, huh?" the blank slate of a girl asked hopefully.  
  
"Mhm!"  
  
The faceless girl beamed happily. Being a fairy sounded so nice. Born from dirt and earth, she was a protector of the forest. It fit her like a glove.  
  
Aside from the forest, though, there was something else she wanted to protect.  
  
It was the other girl before her, and the feeling had been nagging at her for a long time now.  
  
The faceless girl asked, "Do fairies protect people, too?"  
  
"I think so." the bright-eyed Ginger replied. "Why?"  
  
"Because I..." It was hard for the faceless Ginger to say this, but it needed to be said before the first Ginger left. She continued deliberately, "I want to protect you."  
  
The initial Ginger's eyes widened in surprise, "Why?"  
  
"Because— I mean, I—"  
  
She had to spit it out already. She absolutely had to.  
  
"Because, I... I think I like..." The forest 'fairy' fidgeted and took a deep breath.  
  
"I think I like  _you_."  
  
The human girl simply smiled at her friend.  
  
"Aw... I like you too!"  
  
The Ginger born from soil quickly realized that the Ginger born of flesh and blood wasn't particularly understanding what she meant. She still had to keep going, lest this was their last night together. Her little heart pounded in her chest as she shook her head.  
  
"No, no, I...  _Like_ -like you," she said.  
  
There was a short pause between the two children. The faceless Ginger immediately began to worry if she had ruined things between the two of them.  
  
The original Ginger eventually broke the silence.  
  
"But," she started, a bit unsure, "We're both girls... But..."  
  
Ginger didn't even have to finish for the second Ginger to feel her heart breaking already. She  _had_  ruined things. She knew it. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it.  
  
She started to get up from her spot on the riverbank.  
  
"I'm sorry—"  
  
"Wait!" The human pleaded, grabbing the supposed fae's hand. "Don't go."  
  
"But you said that—"  
  
"I don't care if we're both girls!" the first Ginger said with a new air of confidence, gripping the second's hand tighter. "I like-like you t—"  
  
Her words were suddenly cut off by a coughing fit, a frequent happening when she was overexcited nowadays. All the other Ginger could do was slowly sit back down and rub the side girl's hand with her thumb comfortingly. She felt helpless as she smelt the sick coming off of the one she loved, but she was happy that she at least liked her like that too.  
  
The human finally stopped coughing into her free hand and looked back over at her friend-turned-childhood love.  
  
The 'fairy' frowned, and her stomach was beginning to twist into itself again. Her girl had coughed up blood. The sight— the  _smell_ — was terrible _._  She kept herself as composed as she could, though.  
  
"...You really are leaving, aren't you?"  
  
It took a moment for her to notice it, but the human Ginger gasped when she saw the blood on her hand. She shakily wiped it off on her skirt as fast as she could. She tried to smile to say something happy, but her smile faded as quickly as it came.  
  
"...Yeah," she frowned. "I guess I am."  
  
The faceless girl bit her lip lightly. This really _was_  going to be the last time they were seeing each other.  
  
After a strained moment of silence, she asked, "What do people who like eachother do when they leave for a while?"  
  
"Oh!" The first Ginger started. "Uh... They kiss! That's what my mommy and daddy do before daddy goes to work in the mornings."  
  
The second Ginger stared at the first for a moment. She barely knew what a kiss was, but she slowly nodded anyway.  
  
"O-okay."  
  
So, with a smile, the human Ginger gently kissed the fairy Ginger on her cheek.  
  
At first, it felt so nice. The nonhuman Ginger could even feel her face heat up yet soften.  
  
Long ago, she had heard of a place called "Heaven" while eavesdropping on the visitor. It was a soft place of love and hope, she heard, somewhere everyone loved and was loved and where strife was nonexistent.  
  
This had to be as close as she could get to it.  
  
But then she realized that the smell of blood and weakness grew stronger the more the first Ginger lingered. Sure, it was only for a second or two, but it was overbearing to the point that the young girl's head fell into a state of numbness. Her vision began to blur.  
  
She could only catch herself when her spindly black tendrils, sharp as knives at the tips, began to sprout from her back. She was powerless to stop it when it started, her mouth even beginning to salivate heavily on its own. She was so hungry. Oh, she was just so,  _so,_ **hungry**.  
  
Shifting in and out of coherency, she swiftly pushed her Ginger away, leaving the other girl stumbling backwards.  
  
She had one last request for the one she loved before she lost herself completely.  
  
"...Run."  
  
The human girl was thrown off by this completely. In her eyes, this was coming out of nowhere. Was this because she kissed her? Did she do something wrong? Questions swam about in her head, but she could only ask one.  
  
"...What?", she asked, voice small with uncertainty.  
  
The monstrous child's demeanor had changed. In this moment, she was no longer the quiet and loving girl she was moments ago. The fairy-turned-monster repeated herself again.  
  
 _"Run."  
  
_ "I— I don't understand—" the human Ginger began, stuttering with tears pooling in her eyes. "I thought you liked—"  
  
The monstrous Ginger shoved the human away further, repeating herself once more in a booming growl.  
  
 **** _"RUN."  
  
_ The human girl finally did what she was told.  
  
The nonhuman began the chase.  
  
In the summertime, she thought that everything was coming to an end because of the incident with her Ginger's mother.  
  
She was wrong.  
  
 _This_  is what would seal the two's fate together.  
  
 _This_  was the beginning of the end.  
  
Bare feet crunched through the fallen leaves on the forest floor. The human Ginger was sobbing as she ran as quickly as she could through the trees.  
  
All the other Ginger, now a monster, could think about was fresh meat— sweet red ichor— and she thought about how much she absolutely needed it.  
  
She wanted to be where her Ginger was.  
  
She wanted to be where her prey was.  
  
She wanted it so badly that she could visualize her running through the trees, her coming to a stop and wheezing and coughing up more and more blood.  
  
The monster could see it so clearly that she suddenly found herself right behind the human girl.  
  
A shrill scream rang out through the woods as the monster pounced on her from behind and began tearing away at her.  
  
All was finally quiet.  
  
The tale of two Gingers came to a screeching, gruesome halt here.  
  
And as the meal ended, and as the remaining Ginger calmed down, breathing heavily, she came to a sullen revelation as she stared at the remains.  
  
She wasn't a fairy at all.  
  
Fairies didn't hurt people if those people were nice to them.  _Fairies didn't hurt the ones they loved.  
  
_ Not like this.  
  
But she was just  _hungry_. She only meant to take off a nibble— just a  _nibble._  
  
The remaining Ginger picked up the corpse and held it close to her chest. The early autumn air hung heavy on her shoulders as she tried to listen for anything that would prove that she didn't just kill the one she so loved.  
  
But she did kill her.  
  
As she took in the horrible truth of the situation, she could feel raindrops forming on her face as she took in the dead Ginger's smell one last time.  
  
Once again, she just wanted to go back to her meadow. It was a shame that her Ginger never saw the place for herself; She would've loved it, that's for sure. The girl, now just a little girl once more, began sobbing. It didn't have to end like this. It really didn't.  
  
But it did.  
  
With the weight of her kill on her mind, Ginger stood up with the body and began walking back toward the meadow.  
  
It took until sunrise, but she had dug a hole with her bare hands and buried her love under the weeping willow tree. For some reason, she kept her love's tattered wig and bloodied dress. They were stark reminders that she had been here, and that she was now gone.  
  
She slipped the dress on, put the wig on her head, and then laid down on top of the soft soil of the grave.  
  
"Good night, Ginger" she muttered. "Good night."  
  
She finally returned the kiss, much too late, to the grave.  
  
As Ginger began to nod off, she had faintly realized something.  
  
Her hunger had finally vanished.  
  
She was finally satiated.


	5. splendor

It was winter once more.

Ginger had since decided that, along with her love's clothes, she would be keeping her name as well. Though the name still made raindrops drip from her face, the memories of her former Ginger that the name brought with it kept her heart feeling warm in the cold.

She was too young to know what impending doom really was, but she could feel in her still malnourished gut that hers was probably coming. She felt that she deserved whatever she got, though, so she didn't worry too much about it.  
  
In fact, she welcomed the idea of death, particularly because she realized that she would get to join her love.  
  
Her mind ran with 'maybe's like she used to run through the woods: with excitement and fervor.  
  
Maybe she'd meet her in Heaven. Maybe her body would be finally accepted back into the soil and would sleep next to hers. Maybe they'd even be reborn together in a next life as some of the pretty flowers that grew under the base of the tree she called home.  
  
It was always _maybe,_ this _,_ and  _maybe,_ that.  
  
Today, she just felt like laying with her 'maybe's. She felt like that the day before that, and the day before that. She had been laying on top of the now snowy grave for so long, she noticed, that her limbs were beginning to frost over.  
  
She deserved it, she thought.  
  
However, her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of boots crunching in the snow. Ginger slowly lifted her head off of the ground and looked over at the source of the noise.  
  
Much to her genuine surprise, it was the visitor. Despite her surprise, though, she continued to lay still. She did observe him, though. He looked different from the other times he had visited in the past year, but he looked considerably warmer than she did with his dark, polka-dotted, fur-trimmed coat and his red scarf. He had his bouquet in hand as he casually walked through the meadow, as usual.  
  
The visitor locked gazes with her, immediately dropping the bundle of flowers in his hands to the ground and running over to her.  
  
"Oh, Gods above and below!" she heard the visitor say as he rushed over to her at the base of the tree.  
  
Though she had always watched him for a full year, this was the first their paths had ever crossed. It was a pity that he had to see her like this, though she felt no shame for it.  
  
"Are you okay?" the visitor asked as soon as he was by Ginger’s frozen side. His voice was gentle as she had always heard it, but worried. "Where did you come from?"  
  
He paused for a moment, and then lightly slapped his palm against his forehead.  
  
“Wh— What am I saying?” He began taking off his scarf in a hurry. “ _I know where you came from!_ ”  
  
The visitor put his scarf on the shivering girl, wrapping it around her neck and shoulders tight, “Here, wear this.”

A confused Ginger silently observed the concerned visitor as he went on, putting his hands on her flaky shoulders and sitting her upright. He seemed surprised by the texture of her cold skin, but he kept a hold on her.  
  
“Aw geeze, you haven’t even shed your baby skin yet… Can you stand at all?”  
  
Before she could even think of an answer, the visitor was already getting her up to her feet.  
  
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. He sounded like he was moreso reminding himself that things were going to be okay, but Ginger didn’t say anything about it. “You’re going to be okay and warm and we’re going to get you all nice and fixed up.”  
  
Once positive that Ginger could stand on her own, he took off his large coat and slipped Ginger into it, rubbing the fabric against her skin a few times so that the friction could warm her up. It made Ginger wince a bit as the fibers caught on her splintering form, but she felt warmer. The visitor then picked the girl up with a mumble of "up we go" and repositioned her a bit in his arms so that she was in a sitting position against his chest.  
  
“We’re going home, okay?"  
  
What? Home? But Ginger was already home. She looked at the visitor, then at her birth tree, and then back at the visitor in confusion.  
  
"Don't worry, we'll be there in no time," the visitor continued gently.  
  
Ginger's mind was still slow in her freezing state, but she finally realized that the visitor was taking her away from her meadow, her tree, and the love that was laid to rest underneath.  
  
For the first time in a season, the flesh around her jaw tore open painfully.  
  
"No!" she screamed, trying to wrench herself out of the visitor's arms. "No, no,  _no, no, **no**_!"  
  
The visitor nearly dropped her, but a few tendrils whipped out from his spine to catch her before she hit the ground. They lifted her back up into the visitor's arms, and then acted as bindings to keep her from thrashing around again.  
  
After realizing that she couldn't move much anymore, Ginger simply resorted to crying in the visitor's grip.  
  
"Shh, shh... It's okay..." the visitor hushed. "I know it hurts right now, but I promise you that it won't hurt anymore if you come with me."  
  
Ginger continued to sob, just wanting the visitor to let her go and let her die in the elements, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. She stopped struggling, and simply held onto the visitor, burying her face into his chest.  
  
The visitor sighed lightly, rubbing the crying girl's back. He then closed his eyes and concentrated on his home.  
  
It was warm, and there was a fireplace. The floral wallpaper was pastel with an assortment of red, blue, and yellow flower arrangements printed on. The hardwood floor was mahogany with a myriad of decorative carpets neatly strewn about the main floor.  
  
Such were the things he concentrated on.  
  
And, suddenly, there they were.  
  
Ginger immediately felt the temperature change, so much that she had to take her head out of the visitor's chest and look around. She had never been in a house before, much less even know what a 'house' was.  
  
The visitor's boots clunked on the floor as he walked across the room with her, his tendrils unfurling from around Ginger's wrists and ankles. He gently set her down in a large chair by the fireplace. It was the warmest spot in the room, and Ginger couldn't believe it was all for her.  
  
Her crying quieted at the relaxing, flickering light before her. She had never seen a fire before, and her mind went from wanting to die to wanting to know what this was.  
  
"Pretty, isn't it?" the visitor asked gently. "Just don't get too close to it. Let it warm you up from afar before getting closer, so you don't go into shock."  
  
Ginger simply nodded. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she had to agree.  
  
She could suddenly hear lighter footsteps run down the hallway nearby.  
  
"S-sir!" a voice said. "Are you alright? I heard you walking through and—"  
  
The voice stopped right there when Ginger looked back at the source.  
  
The source was a young human. They were definitely much older than the past Ginger, but not as old as the past Ginger's mother. Ginger also couldn't tell if they were a girl or not, but could gauge in the low light that the human had short, curly hair that hung in coils, a rather short and plump figure, and dark, drooping eyes that reminded her of a young doe.  
  
"We're fine, Macy," the tall man said, smiling. He knelt down to the child's level in the chair.  
  
"I'll be right back," he assured her. "You stay here and get warmed up."  
  
With that, he got back up to his full height and walked over to the person, who Ginger now identified as "Macy". After the two ducked out of sight into the hallway, Ginger turned back around and stared at the fire again.  
  
She could faintly hear Macy and the visitor talking amongst themselves over the crackling of the flame before her.  
  
"Is she..."  
  
"I'm sure she is. I saw her starting to sprout last winter, but... Goodness, I thought she was eaten up. I mean, I didn't see her that spring, so, I had to assume..."  
  
"So she's been out there this whole time?"  
  
There was a pause before the visitor replied with a sigh.  
  
"I'm afraid so... But that's okay. Everything will be okay, and we'll take care of her."  
  
"But  _can_ we take care of her? Can  _you_  take care of her?"  
  
"Macy..."  
  
"But Splendor—"  
  
Macy caught themself.  
  
"I-I mean— But  _Sir._ "  
  
"He would've wanted me to take care of his kin. He would've taken care of mine."  
  
There was another sigh, this time from Macy. The visitor, the man who Ginger now knew was named "Splendor", spoke again.  
  
"I know you're... Very worried, but I can handle this. I promise."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I'll be okay," Splendor said. He sounded like he was smiling again. "Now, let's make some tea for the poor girl."  
  
"...Yes, sir," Macy replied, seeming a bit relieved.  
  
Ginger could then hear Splendor's boots gently thudding against the floor as he came back to her side. By this time, the coat Ginger was wearing had gotten a bit damp, as the frost that coated her skin had finally melted.  
  
"Macy's making you some tea, dear," Splendor gently spoke to her. "You already look better all warmed up, too. Isn't that great?"  
  
Ginger nodded a little. She did suppose that it was sort of great. She even felt a bit better than before being like this.  
  
"So... Do you have a name yet?" Splendor asked her, leaning in curiously.  
  
It took a moment for her to respond, what with the baggage on the name and all, but she eventually did.  
  
"Ginger," she said.  
  
"That's a pretty name," Splendor smiled.  
  
Ginger ended up smiling. She thought it was pretty, too.  
  
After no time at all, Macy was back with a tray of tea. Their droopy eyes were calm as Splendor looked over at them.  
  
"Thank you, Macy," he said casually, taking the tray of tea from them.  
  
Macy nodded, "It's no problem. Is there anything else you or..."  
  
"Ginger," Splendor told. "Her name is Ginger."  
  
"Is there anything else you or Ginger need?" Macy asked.  
  
"No, thank you," the tall man smiled gently. "Unless you'd like to sit and talk with us, you can do as you'd like."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
With that, Macy left back to the hallway, and Splendor looked over at Ginger. He gave her cup of tea to her, helping her hold it until he was sure that she could do so by herself.  
  
After a few sips of tea between the both of them, Splendor looked like he remembered something.  
  
"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you," he said, "After this, you're going to have to take a bath."  
  
Ginger stared at the man in confusion.  
  
Bath? What was a  _bath?  
  
_ She was just about to find out.  
  
Ginger screamed bloody murder during her bath. She now knew what it was, and knew that she'd done it before, but baths for her usually weren't this excruciating. Splendor was just scrubbing off the overgrown wood scales on her, but it  _hurt._  She sounded so much in pain that a good chunk of the proxies stationed at the home were listening outside of the door. When Macy walked up on them all, they shooed them away. After a moment, Macy leaned up against the door and listened momentarily themself, but one of the proxies from the group swiftly grabbed their blouse sleeve and pulled them away with the rest of the them.  
  
They had to clean up Ginger's items anyway.  
  
The bath eventually ended, and, while Ginger's skin was left smooth and clean as a whistle, she was stewing in irritated silence.  
  
"See?" Splendor asked, gently dabbing away some black, sap-like blood from Ginger's shoulders and chest with a warm washcloth, "It wasn't that bad."  
  
The girl only answered with a splash of inky bath water to Splendor's face.  
  
"Oof."


	6. ichor

An hour or so had passed since Ginger's bath, and Splendor was currently buttoning up the tiniest shirt he owned on the little girl. He had dressed her up in a pair of black slacks as well, and, looking like this, she definitely was the spitting image of her father when he was a youngster.  
  
"Don't you feel better all squeaky clean?" the tall man asked. "You even have new clothes! I mean, they're not exactly new, but they're your size."  
  
Ginger didn't respond.  
  
"...It's okay to be shy! I was a shy kid myself when I was your age. I had to rely on your father— my brother— a lot to talk for me, haha."  
  
Despite her curiosity about what a 'brother' was and how that 'brother' was her father, the girl simply looked away from Splendor. On top of still being irritated by the bath, it was growing apparent that she was uncomfortable without her wig or her usual dress, but Splendor just couldn't let her run around in a bloodied up dress and a mangled wig if he could do something about it.  
  
"Hey. Hey..." Splendor reassured. "I have little busy bees who are making sure that your wig and your dress get all nice and clean like you are. This is only temporary."  
  
A small sigh could be heard from Ginger, and Splendor frowned a bit. His jovial default expression quickly returned, though, as he came up with an idea.  
  
Gingerly leading the child to the door by the hand, Splendor cooed at her, "How about you go play with the other kids that are here while I clean up the bathroom? I'm sure they'll like you just fine, and maybe it'll cheer you up a little. How's that sound?"  
  
Suddenly excited about the prospect of play, Ginger nodded quickly and ran out of the room. Splendor smiled at the sight, and then shut the door.  
  
Now to drain the bathtub and clean it up, and things will be peachy-keen.  
  
He was just about to roll up his sleeves to start working when a black tar began to drip down one of the walls back in the bedroom and coalesce into something vaguely resembling a portal.  
  
Oh no.  
  
 _It was him._  
  
With a flash of red light, a certain chaos god casually stepped out of the portal and into Splendor's bedroom.  
  
"He-ll-oooooooo!"  
  
Things were definitely not peachy-keen anymore, but Splendor quickly composed himself out of his surprised stupor. Zalgo really didn't need to be here right now, but Splendor had to play the part of the good host.  
  
"M-my lord, Zalgothoth!" Splendor grinned sheepishly, bowing a bit, then straightening. "What, uh, what brings you here?"  
  
He was honestly so glad that Ginger was in another room. The chaos god really did not need to see her. Not yet.  
  
" _Pfft-_ Oh, Splend, no need to be so formal," Zalgo smiled, trying not to laugh at the display. "We went over this. You're one of my best friends. We're on a first-name basis, for chaos' sake!"  
  
"...Right!" Splendor nodded. "Right, right, right. Sorry, Zal."  
  
There was a rather awkward pause between the two. Zalgo cleared his throat a bit to break the silence.  
  
"So..." he started. "Has my Precious come home yet?"  
  
Splendor squinted his eyes a bit.  
  
Precious? What?  
  
It took him a moment.  
  
Oh.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
"N-no, I'm afraid not," Splendor frowned, shaking his head.  
  
Zalgo's bemused expression turned to one of defeat.  
  
"I... I see," the chaos god replied. "Have you or anyone else heard from him at all in the past year, then?"  
  
Splendor shook his head again, frown growing.  
  
"Gods below, he really vanished off the face of the earth this time—" Zalgo muttered. He paused for a second before his eyes lit up. "Oh, oh! Maybe he isn't on this particular Earth! That'd be silly!"  
  
Splendor cringed. Zalgo didn't know how right yet wrong he was. Not yet, at least.  
  
The god noticed Splendor's odd behavior and squinted a bit.  
  
"...Is there something you're not telling me, Splend?" he asked in suspicion.  
  
"Nope!" Splendor replied hastily. "M-maybe you should come back another time, I just remembered I, uh! Uhhh..."  
  
Zalgo interrupted Splendor's trainwreck of a thought.  
  
"Splend, you're acting... Very dodgy today. I mean, come on, it's not like he's dead or something!" Zalgo laughed a little in jest.  
  
Splendor's stomach dropped in fear. He didn't answer. He couldn't answer.  
  
The two were silent for a dreadful moment.  
  
"...Hey. That's not funny," Zalgo grimaced.  
  
Splendor still didn't answer, only shifting his gaze away from the lord's stare.  
  
Zalgo was already getting choked up at the mere thought of his Slender being dead, "S-Splendor, that's not funny! That's not funny, I—"  
  
This was a new kind of chaos. While Zalgo loved chaos and causing it, he didn't like this kind of chaos of the mind— this chaos of the heart— not one bit. He fidgeted, grasping at thin air and looking around the room. He even started pacing the floor, and all Splendor could do was stare in silent terror. Zalgo, noticing that Splendor was still dead silent, whipped around to face him.  
  
"Hey!" he yelled. "S-say something! Anything!"  
  
"...You're right," Splendor finally mumbled.  
  
Zalgo's breath hitched to a halt.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Splendor gulped, "I-I said... You're right."  
  
Zalgo's scarlet eyes widened in anxiety. He grabbed Splendor harshly by the shoulders, causing the tall being to flinch and tense up.  
  
"Stop it!" Zalgo said in a panic. "I-I know it's been hard on all of us, but joking that he's dead isn't going to make him come back!"  
  
"I'm not joking!" Splendor cried out, pushing Zalgo away and backing up a few steps from him.  
  
Splendor hated the look on Zalgo's face. He had never felt so strongly against something until now, but the look of pure devastation broke Splendor's heart all over again.  
  
"Wha— I— But, he—"  
  
"I'm sorry, Zal," Splendor winced, holding back his own tears.  
  
"No! I— I, I, I—"

For once in his long, immortal life, Zalgo was at a loss for words.

"No, no, no," he chanted, sobbing. " _No, no, no, **no!**_ "  
  
Splendor slowly began to extend a hand to comfort the god.  
  
"H-hey, he's okay now. He's okay now."  
  
After a pause, Zalgo's voice was small.  
  
"...Okay? Wasn't he..."  
  
Another mouth on his body talked for him, that voice cold and precise, "Wasn't he okay before?"  
  
Splendor's eyes widened.  
  
 _Darn it._  
  
After an uncomfortable silence, Zalgo snapped his gaze up from his hands to Splendor, face stained with burning hot tears.

"You knew."

Splendor stiffened, drawing his hand back quickly.

"Well, I—"

"You  _knew_  this whole time," the chaos god growled, taking a step toward Splendor. "You KNEW he was dying before and you KNEW he was dead now and you— you fed me bullshit about him just  _leaving_!"

The great Lord Zalgo was quickly advancing on him, and Splendor had to act quickly lest he meet a more gruesome fate than his brother.

"L-look I—"

Splendor quickly realized that it would no use trying to reason with Zalgo, as Splendor had no excuses this time. He was caught in his lie, and now he had to face the music.

He really didn't want to die this way, though.

"...Sorry!"

With that, a flurry of tendrils flew from his back, audibly ripping through fabric, and restrained the chaos god.

Zalgo only screamed with righteous fury, "You really think you can restrain  _me_!? You think that's going to fix  _anything_!?"

Six of Zalgo's mouths were beginning to migrate to his bindings.

"I'll kill you!" the god cried. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill—  _Hhrgk_ —"

Zalgo looked down at his torso, which was now pierced by a several, thick tendrils. They were sharp and without bells.

"I'm sorry," Splendor whimpered. "I didn't want to do that, I'm so sorry."

After a short pause, Zalgo laughed a little emptily. These weren't serious injuries, but they were just enough to put him out of commission for a bit.

"You... Really aren't as innocent as you make yourself out to be, after all," he chuckled lightly. "I'll... Remember that. For next time."

Splendor was shaking. If this was Zalgo's reaction to just finding out that his Slender was dead, Splendor really didn't want to see how he would react to the little girl who was possibly sitting in the next room over. He silently prayed that the product of his brother's death, the product of all the natural deaths of his kind, somehow didn't hear the commotion and screaming.

Despite his praying, the door opened as Zalgo went limp and closed his eyes.

"Ginger!" Splendor called out in surprise, turning around. His tendrils immediately unfurled from Zalgo and retracted, dropping the unconscious chaos being to the floor. The thicker, bloodied tendrils slipped back into his spine with grotesque slurping noises, but Ginger didn't seem to mind hearing it.

Instead, she simply stared up at Splendor. Well, she stared up at him as best she could without noticeable eyes.

There the two stood, gazes locked, as Zalgo made soft but terrible, gurgled wheezing noises with six of his mouths and bled out.

Splendor finally sighed and smiled wearily at Ginger.

"Gingy?" he asked gently, "Are you hungry?"

Ginger shifted her gaze to the unconscious chaos god for a moment, then stared back up at Splendor and nodded.

"You wait for me in the kitchen, okay?", Splendor said. "I have to take care of our guest."

Ginger nodded in response again, but did not move. Splendor could read that she was immensely curious about Zalgo and the deep red ichor that flowed like molasses from his chest. He had to begrudgingly admit, though, it did smell kind of nice, but what else could be expected from a god's blood?

Splendor placed his hands on Ginger's shoulders and gently turned the child around to face out of the room. A clean, belled tendril emerged from his back, and Splendor rang the bell with a calmness that unnerved even himself.

The proxy from earlier, Macy, soon stepped into the doorframe. Their eyes widened and their mouth immediately dropped open at the mess on the floor, but Splendor caught their attention.

"Macy?" he asked them, "May you please take Ginger here to the kitchen? She might be a bit hungry. If we have any meat, please cut it up for her."

"W-would you— she— like it cooked, sir?" Macy shakily asked in reply. They knew that something serious had just happened with their boss's frazzled appearance, the unconscious Zalgo on the floor, and the shaky grip on Ginger's shoulders, but they knew better not to ask what happened.

"Oh, no, sweetness," Splendor replied patiently, "she likes her food raw."

"Y...yes, sir."

Splendor then passed Ginger off to Macy, who placed their own hands on the girl's shoulders and began to corral her out of the room. Splendor simply watched with a smile as the two headed down the hallway, and then slowly shut the door, locking it with a small click.

He turned around to face Zalgo and sighed, rolling up his sleeves.

This cleanup just got ten times harder.


	7. underground

It actually didn't take that long for Splendor's problems to be solved, because, while Zalgo was heavier than a load of bricks in his unconscious state, Splendor considered himself determined.  
  
He hoisted the limp and still-bleeding chaos god up over his shoulder, and zipped over to one of the empty guest rooms in a snap.  
  
The room was surprisingly dull, especially if compared to the rest of the rooms in the house. No one had ever stayed in it before, and it was farther from the home's main area than the rest of the other rooms. This room in particular actually gave him the shivers, but coming in here with Zalgo was necessary.  
  
It was damage control.  
  
He used a tendril to pull back the covers, and then he gently put the god's body down. He would definitely need to change the sheets himself after this; There was no way he would be letting his human companions near god's blood—  _especially_  not the blood of this god in particular. It could easily drive them over the edge of chaos and corruption.  
  
He had to get the blood in his room cleaned up right away.  
  
 Before leaving the room, he looked over Zalgo's body and sighed lightly.  
  
 _Please,_ he thought.  
  
 _Don't do anything rash when you wake up._  
  
He then locked the door to that room from the inside and took his leave.  
  
He had work to do.  
  
Meanwhile, off in the kitchen, Ginger was being absolutely fawned over.  
  
"I never seen a child one before...!" a teenage girl exclaimed, tilting her golden pigtails forward. "How old are you?"  
  
"Where did you come from?" another girl, this one with a polka-dotted head wrapping that went down to her shoulders, asked curiously. "Was it from the woods?"  
  
"Of course she's from the woods, Aisha," the pigtailed girl laughed. "Everyone like her is. Even Boss is..."  
  
"I mean the woods  _nearby_ , Jackie," Aisha smiled, looking away a little in embarrassment.   
  
Ginger already didn't know how to respond to the barrage of new information, so she kept quiet.  
  
A young man cocked his eyebrow and leaned back on the kitchen counter casually.  
  
"Are you really  _his_  daughter? Boss' brother's daughter?" he piped in. "If so, I can't be-lieve you're his. I mean, he was a  _mean_  sonofa—"  
  
The young man froze when Macy walked back into the kitchen.  
  
"What were you about to say, Emmet?", they asked him.  
  
The young man, Emmet, gulped a little and smiled nervously at them,"N-nothing, Macy. I was just telling her how her father was a... Really good guy."  
  
"Thought so," Macy replied before turning to everyone.  
  
"Alright," they established in a tone of authority that was a bit surprising for Ginger to hear from her. "If your name isn't Ginger, I need to kindly ask you to leave my kitchen. You guys already had your dinner, and it's time for Ginger to have hers. So if you aren't here to help me cut up some  _raw_ ,  _ **bloody**_  meat: Get."  
  
Jackie and Aisha looked at each other and cringed at the word "bloody". The two silently agreed to leave, and began to do so. However, Aisha noticed that Emmet wasn't budging, and had to responsibly grab his arm and drag him out of the kitchen.  
  
"Ai!"  
  
Aisha shot him a look, " _Emmet_."  
  
The young man groaned a little and begrudgingly left with the girls. Ginger was beginning to notice that girls were very persuasive in their looks. She only hoped that she could be as tactful when she was older.  
  
When the three finally left, Macy sighed a bit in relief and turned to Ginger, "You ready for some fresh food?"  
  
Ginger nodded, smiling at the young adult. She watched their every move after the promise of food.  
  
She watched Macy wash her hands squeaky clean. She watched Macy get out a shiny, impressive-looking knife and set it aside. When she watched Macy bend down and grab a large, scarlet T-bone steak out of the fridge, though, her smile turned into a toothy grin.  
  
Macy laughed a bit at the grin and put the steak on the cutting board, "I already know that your uncle is going to absolutely spoil you from now on. He's spoiling you right now. We just got this fresh from the market today."  
  
Ginger tilted her head in confusion, grin fading a bit.  
  
"What's an uncle?", she questioned.  
  
Macy paused for a moment.  
  
"...Oh! Your parent's brother is called an 'uncle'. In this case, 'Boss' is your father's brother, so he's your uncle."  
  
Ginger still understood nothing about the business with her father, but she accepted the fact that she could call Splendor her uncle anyway.  
  
"Ah..."  
  
There was a brief silence before Ginger asked another question.  
  
"What's a market?"  
  
Macy just laughed. The girl had a lot to learn.  
  
It was nightfall by the time Ginger finished her dinner. She recalled that she usually went to sleep at this time underneath her tree with her other Ginger, but, now that she was someplace different, she was at a total loss of what to do.  
  
While Ginger was busy thinking and Macy was busy cleaning, Aisha came back into the kitchen and lightly tapped Macy's shoulder. The teen whispered something into Macy's ear  
  
Macy gently placed a hand on Ginger's back, "Your uncle is taking a bath right now, but I'll gladly show you to your room."  
  
Ginger looked up at Macy. "My room?"  
  
"I-it's a guest room," Macy stated, "but it'll work for now until we get something set up."  
  
The faceless girl nodded, and Macy carefully led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway.  
  
The two went up the creaking stairs at the end, and Macy continued to walk her down another hallway until they reached a door. Ginger noticed that this door in particular had a series of lines drawn on the frame with strange symbols. She decided to hold off on asking yet another question, as she was very tired.  
  
The time between wakefulness and rest was particularly dull for Ginger. Macy's small talk with the child as they dressed her in some pajamas bounced around lazily in the sleepy fog of her brain before disappearing completely from her mind.  
  
She was glad to have finally been tucked into bed and left alone.  
  
As soon as Ginger's head sunk into the pillow, though, she was plagued with nightmares.  
  
In her dreams, she could hear her Ginger crying out for her from underneath the weeping willow in the clearing. She was screaming underneath the soil, desperately trying to claw her way out of the ground. She was so cold. She was so,  _so_ cold. She just wanted Ginger to help her— To please,  _please_  help her.  
  
But she couldn't.  
  
Ginger woke up with sweat and tears dripping down her nonface.  
  
She quickly got out of bed and made her way out of the dark room. She was extremely grateful that her uncle's room was right down the hallway as Macy said. The girl swung open the door like her life depended on it.  
  
Splendor was still awake, reading with his lamp on, when Ginger burst in. He jumped, startled, but swiftly closed his book and got out of bed, pacing over to Ginger.  
  
"Gingy, hon," he said, worried. "What's wrong?"  
  
Ginger was shaking and fidgeting terribly, and when she finally tried to say something, she ended up sobbing loudly.  
  
"She won't stop crying!" she wept. "I left her there and she's crying!"  
  
"Who, Ginger?" Splendor asked. "Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
The only answer he received from the child was more sobbing.  
  
"Shh, shh, it's okay," Splendor soothed. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have expected you to sleep alone your first night here..."  
  
He pulled the child into a tight hug, "Come here, honey."  
  
Ginger held onto her uncle tightly.  
  
"Dry your tears," he said comfortingly. "I'm here... Now, why is this girl crying?"  
  
"She wants help," Ginger sniveled.  
  
"What does she need help with?"  
  
"Coming out of the ground," the girl answered.  
  
Splendor's blood ran cold.  
  
"Why is she in the ground?" he deliberately questioned.   
  
"Because..." Ginger started, wincing a bit. "Because, I killed her."  
  
Splendorman held back a gasp. No wonder her dress was covered in long-dried blood when he found her.  
  
"Oh, Ginger," he began sympathetically. "I..."  
  
He frowned and patted the bedside next to him, urging Ginger to come up and sit. She did as she was motioned to do, and climbed up onto the bed. Her face was still drenched from crying, and Splendor solemnly used his pajama sleeve to dry most of it off. He felt that he had to keep his composure around the child, but he needed to let her know that she wasn't alone.  
  
He held the girl close to him, letting her rest her head on his lap. He began stroking her head gently to calm her down.  
  
She needed to be calm for what he was about to say.  
  
"Our first kills are... always the hardest," he said slowly. He gulped a bit, trying to hold back his own tears as he remembered the past he so desperately tried to sweep under the rug. "Especially when it's... a friend."  
  
"But— But I didn't  _want_ to," Ginger muttered, her small frame shaking with the beginnings of another sob. "I didn't want to."  
  
"I didn't want to, either, but... I was so... starving."  
  
Ginger quickly looked up at her uncle. She was starving when her accident happened. Was he just like her?  
  
"Did you like her a lot?", she asked quietly.  
  
" _Him,_ " Splendor corrected his niece softly. "I liked  _him_  a lot."  
  
Ginger gasped.  
  
"What was his name?"  
  
Splendor's eyes began to water at the very question.   
  
"What was hers?", he asked in reply, avoiding the question and wiping his tears away on his other sleeve. He continued to pet Ginger's head.  
  
"...Ginger," Ginger said.  
  
Splendor looked down at her understandingly, "What made you take her name?"  
  
"So I can always remember her," Ginger responded plainly, returning his gaze. "But what was  _his_ name?"  
  
"You should get back to sleep," Splendor dodged once more with a patient tone.  
  
Ginger sat up and pouted in frustration.  
  
"I'm not going to sleep until you tell me what his name was! Don't you want to remember him, too?"  
  
" _Ginger..."  
  
_ Splendor's expression was blank for a moment, to the point that it sent cold shivers down Ginger's spine, but he ended up simply smiling and patting Ginger's head.  
  
"I'll tell you in the morning," he started.  
  
Ginger lit up, staring expectantly at Splendor.  
  
"But  _only_  if you go to sleep," he continued. "You've had a long day."  
  
At that statement, the girl quickly rushed under the thick covers of Splendor's bed and settled in. It was obvious at how much she was enjoying getting able to sleep in such an illustrious bed like this one for the first time in her life. The guest bed was comfy, but this was infinitely better.  
  
"G'night, uncle Splendor," she whispered in contained excitement. She certainly seemed better.  
  
The proud uncle chuckled, "Good night, Ginger."  
  
Ginger rolled over away from Splendor, and Splendor was relieved and thankful that children were as blissfully naïve as ever. He slowly reached over and clicked the lamp on his nightstand off, and then slid down and rested his head on his pillow, letting his eyes droop closed.  
  
It really  _had_  been a long day— for every party involved— but it was finally over.  
  
But long days usually led to long nights.  
  
That night, he dreamt of a time when he was small and as soft as fresh daisies.  
  
He dreamt of small fingers intertwined with each other, promises that were supposed to be unbreakable like the diamonds of the filthy rich they spied on, hidden and chaste kisses on the other's cheek, laughter—  
  
He dreamt of a boy of flesh and blood and his angel of splendor born from the flowers and soil.  
  
 _Basil and Uriel._


	8. chaos

Splendor awoke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead and tears involuntarily rolling down his cheeks.

It took him a moment to register what was happening to him specifically, but before he could do anything about it, a loud crash resounded through his home. He quickly looked over to his side to check if Ginger was still there, and then let out a shaky sigh of relief when he saw his niece still off in dreamland.  
  
After making sure he wouldn't wake the little girl by getting out of bed, he tip-toed out of the room.  
  
The farther down the hallway he strode, the better he could could hear a familiar yelling from downstairs.  
  
He flinched with another crash.  
  
Again with a bang.  
  
Splendor looked behind him, gaze extending to the very, very end of the row of doors.  
  
The farthest guest room's door was entirely missing. All that remained of the slab of wood were splinters and bits of wood.  
  
 His heart skipped a beat in fear at the realization that a still angry Zalgo was now up and about. His fear soon turned to stark worry when he realized that it usually took the chaos god much longer to fully recover from a grievous injury like that. Despite being the one who caused Zalgo's injuries in the first place, the thought of him reopening them by doing something rash to himself or someone else most certainly did not help the unintentional streams of tears flowing freely from his eyes.

Turning back around, Splendor wiped away his tears again with his sleeve and continued on.  
  
As the tall man snuck down the stairs in his pajamas, the chaos god's bellowing became crystal clear. It even echoed off of the walls themselves, seeming to pound on Splendor's body from all sides. Such were the perks of having seven mouths, six of which to yell with.  
  
Splendor didn't want to think of what would happen if the seventh ever opened up in his lifetime.  
  
When he got to the opening to the living room from the first floor hallway, he peeked from the entryway into the living area.  
  
There was the great lord Zalgothoth, hovering dangerously in the middle of the room. A bright red glow engulfed the room from the center, illuminating overturned and busted up furniture, and, though the room smelt sweet with the god's blood, the atmosphere within was uncomfortably heavy with tension and fear. Splendor's older proxies, all still in their own sleepwear, were huddled together against a wall with Macy at the front with their arms out in a wide, protective stance. It took guts to physically stand up to a god, but over Macy's dead body would they let anyone or anything hurt these people.  
  
"Where is he!?" Zalgo roared at the cowering human companions. It was clear that he had let his anger consume him for a short while, now.  
  
"I've searched every single room and nook and cranny in this gods-forsaken labyrinth of a house, and he's nowhere!"  
  
There was a definitive reason for that, Splendor remembered. When he was sure that his companions were busy taking care of Ginger and that Zalgo was still unconscious, he had blessed the house by placing bits of Devil's Snare into secret nooks and crannies within the walls. He had even hung the left over clippings of Devil's Snare over his companions' rooms so they were disguised completely. It was an old, but essential trick he had picked up from being around the entity for so long. He had actually learnt it from the god's close advisor for if things should ever take a turn for the worse.  
  
"Where are you hiding him!?" Zalgo continued. "Out of the  _hundreds_  of rooms here, he has to be in one of them!"  
  
The proxies looked at eachother in confusion and terror. Macy, still standing between Zalgo and their comradery, spoke up.  
  
"Wh-what do you mean, 'hundreds'?" they asked. "L-lord— Lord Zalgothoth, there's only—"

Macy was cut off by Splendor entering the fray. Yes, his eyes still watered with last night's dream and from the newfound scare that was his best friend wreaking havoc on his home, but he put up his walls and acted calm in front of his proxy friends.  
  
"Ten," he said lightly, coming up from behind his proxies and stepping in front of them. "Just ten rooms."  
  
One of the companions nearly started crying from relief when their tall leader stepped onto the scene. Macy stepped down to comfort the young companion, silently hushing her.  
  
"Macy, get everyone upstairs," Splendor gently commanded, not taking his leaking eyes off the chaos god. "We'll have breakfast later."  
  
Macy's eyes widened as they looked up at him, "But, Sir, will you be alright? You're—"  
  
" _Now,_  Macy," Splendor urged.  
  
Macy wanted to say that he was crying, but the tone in his voice, tears still streaming down his face or not, urged them to herd everyone back through the hallway and up the stairs.  
  
During all of this, the great Zalgo was fuming with pure rage.  
  
"You— You,  _you, **you**_ —!"  
  
Splendor clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow at the chaos god. He was trying to look intimidating, but he knew he wasn't doing a very good job with tear-stained cheeks and polka-dotted flannels.  
  
"What?" Zalgo sneered. "Did I interrupt your  _mourning_?"  
  
He stopped to laugh sardonically at his own pun before his forced grin turned into a stern grimace.  
  
"Good." he said flatly. "I'm glad I did."  
  
Splendor dried his eyes once more. Thankfully for him, this emotional distraction meant that his crying had finally stopped.  
  
"You don't mean that," he said. "You're just lashing out right now because—"  
  
"Don't you DARE try to psyche me!" six mouths interrupted. "If you think for a second that I'm not justified in my anger because of the lies you told, you—"  
  
With a wave of his hand, he pulled a generously-sized, framed painting off of the wall without touching it, nails and all.  
  
"You can rot!"  
  
With that, the painting came flying at Splendor's head. The man born from flowers managed to deflect it with a tendril, but the impact still hurt the appendage significantly.  
  
"Rot, rot, rot, rot, rot,  _rot_!"  
  
Zalgo's voice was already beginning to crack between the six outlets. Splendor could tell that the chaos god was absolutely hating the words that spilled out of his mouths and the actions that played out from a puppet entirely controlled by his own anger. Splendor knew he had to remain calm without letting himself give into Zalgo's words entirely while, at the same time, steering clear of getting hurt himself.

"But I don't have to rot, because I think you  _are_  justified in your anger," Splendor deliberated slowly, trying to ignore the stinging pain in the tendril he summoned up. "I mean... I'd feel angry, too."  
  
"No you wouldn't!" Zalgo retorted, his fists balled up at both sides and his eyes beginning to betray him. "You  **never**  feel angry at anything!"  
  
No one would gain anything of value if Splendor stopped to dispute those statements, but he wouldn't accept them either. He'd prove himself later, though, if he really felt that he needed to.  
  
"Your feelings are valid," Splendor frowned. "This wouldn't have happened if I told you as soon as I learnt what happened. This—"  
  
"Stop!" the entity of pitch and scarlet cried out, curling up in the air a bit and grabbing his own shoulders tight. "Stop it, they're not! Stop!"  
  
"They are," Splendor reaffirmed. "Please, I know now what I did was wrong, just— Just come down here, and I'll fix everything."  
  
The look on his face gave away that he so desperately wanted to believe his dear friend, but the trembling Zalgo couldn't. His heart was pounding too hard in his ears to even focus.  
  
"Whh— What is there to fix?" he questioned, still coiled up within himself. "Can you fix your brother? Bring him back? We both know that I can't."

Splendor was caught off-guard immensely.  
  
He looked down in shame.

In the midst of their own emotions, the two adult entities didn't notice that a certain faceless child had made her way into the room. She was as silent in entry as her father once was, and managed to catch the two by surprise.  
  
Splendor's thoughts immediately jumped to the worst. This was the last thing he wanted to happen.  
  
Upon spotting her, though , the red glow of the room began to fade, and Zalgo's body uncurled slowly. A rush of childhood memories nearly drowned him as he took in the fact that she really was her father's spitting image. His voice was unintentionally soft after lightly gesturing to the child.  
  
"Who is this?" he asked.  
  
Splendor stepped in front of Ginger to hide her from the god. Despite his wishes for her to remain hidden, the girl simply peeked out from behind his legs.  
  
The room was silent as looks of pent-up anxiety, oblivious innocence, and exasperated desperation were exchanged between the three of them.  
  
"Her name is Ginger," Splendor answered, finally breaking the silence. "She's..."  
  
"His child," Zalgo quietly finished for him.  
  
He then looked around the wrecked living area. He had really screwed up this time, didn't he? Yes, he figured, he really had. Looking at his dearly departed's daughter had brought his heart back to Earth and grounded him. It finally opened his eyes to the literal and figurative wreckage around him.  
  
There were definitely things that could be fixed right now.  
  
"I. Yes," Zalgo said absently to no one in particular. "Of course his child is here. Let me just..."  
  
Still hovering a few feet in the air, he raised a hand up high.  
  
And with a sorrowful snap of his fingers, the living room was swiftly put back together around the three of them. Everything, right down to the broken-up armchair that now laid in pieces on the wall opposite to the fireplace, was reassembled and put back into its original place like nothing happened.  
  
He soon descended back to the ground, cape lightly fluttering behind him as he came down. He gave a short sigh and laced his fingers together in remaining anxiety.  
  
"I... I'm sorry," the sullen god muttered. "For everything."  
  
"No," Splendor replied. "Don't be—"  
  
"I shouldn't have came here," Zalgo said plainly. "I just. Shouldn't have come here."  
  
As he turned away from both Splendor and Ginger, and as a familiar black tar began to steadily drip down the floral wallpaper, Splendor knitted his brow in anxiety. He couldn't possibly let Zalgo leave, especially not in the sorry state he was in right now.  
  
"Wait! Please—"  
  
Zalgo was already through the otherworldly opening in the wall.  
  
 _ **"HEY!"  
**_  
With a light sound, the opening closed. All that was left on the floral wall was a dark stain where the portal was.  
  
There was a moment of silence between Ginger and Splendor before the older entity turned around to face Ginger.  
  
"I... Don't usually raise my voice like that," Splendor started, as if he had an image to keep up for his niece. "But... You saw how hurt he was, right?"  
  
Ginger remained quiet. She didn't particularly care about the image Splendor was trying to portray to her, but she did see the pain the chaos god was in before he left.  
  
She just nodded.  
  
Splendor then lightly placed a hand on Ginger's back, ushering her out of the living room and toward the stairs leading to the second floor.  
  
"Let's go get everyone else, okay?"  
  
Though he had the inflection of a question in his voice, there was more command to what he said than anything. Ginger, being a child, had no other real choice but to just go with it.  
  
The two walked upstairs and followed the concerned murmurs of the other residents of the home to the main children's room. The small group of kids that Ginger had played with the day before were huddled together in fear while the older proxies attempted to soothe them. The only one of the young adults without a child to tend to was Macy, who looked absolutely relieved at the sight of Ginger and their boss.  
  
"Sir!" Macy smiled. "You're both safe!"  
  
They corrected themself immediately, "I-I mean, of course you are but— He was about to tear this whole place apart  _looking for you_ —"  
  
"It's safe now, though," Splendor smiled gently. "We just have to do some scrubbing on the living room wall and repair a door up here, but... It's completely safe."  
  
"Sir..."  
  
While the two adults continued talking, Ginger wandered over to Aisha, Emmet, and Jackie with the three human children of the house. She listened in on the trio's bantering intently, having nothing else to do.  
  
"I could've taken him," bull-headed Emmet frowned, stroking a whimpering young boy's dark, curly hair.  
  
"You were cowering in a corner," Jackie scoffed playfully, picking up the girl in her arms who had apparently cried herself back to sleep. "Emmet versus a literal god. That'd be  _rich_."  
  
Aisha didn't say anything to Jackie or Emmet, instead glancing up from the anxiously rocking girl she was tending to and over at Ginger.  
  
"Oh! Ginger," Aisha greeted. "You're alright!"  
  
Ginger nodded. She didn't particularly feel like being verbal at the moment,   
  
"Would you like to help us out?" the older teen asked. "Everyone got really scared up here..."  
  
Before Ginger could give her an affirmation of help, Aisha was already talking to the rocking girl.  
  
"Molly, hon," Aisha gently intoned, pressing down on Molly's shoulders firmly. "Ginger's gonna help out. She's going to keep you safe from the loud noises. How does that sound, Molly?"  
  
Molly looked over at Ginger, still rocking. She made a small noise of approval before turning back to Aisha. The girl then patted at Aisha's head covering, running her hand over the nice-feeling fabric.  
  
Brushing off the fact that Aisha made her decision for her, Ginger smiled inwardly at the sight, and then pointed at the boy in Emmet's arms inquisitively.  
  
Still letting Molly pet the soft fabric of her hijab, Aisha looked over at Emmet.  
  
"Ginger wants to know if Gregory's okay," she said to him.  
  
"Yeah, he's gonna be fine," the young man replied. He pulled away from the curly-haired boy, Gregory, just enough to look at him.  
  
"You gonna be okay, champ?" he asked. Emmet was using the same technique Aisha was in keeping the child he was taking care of grounded and calm: a firm, comforting touch and a deliberate tone. "Ginger wants to know so she can play later."  
  
Older people were plenty weird, Ginger thought to herself. They made both assumptions and decisions for you. It saved her some trouble, at least, since she  _did_ want to play later, so she simply continued to observe.  
  
"I'm okay," Gregory sniffled. "Thanks, Em."  
  
It had appeared that Macy and Splendor had finally finished talking with each other.  
  
"Alright, everyone," Splendor started charismatically, turning toward everyone else. "Today started out a little rocky, but I'm still going to get everyone fed. Making breakfast is on me this morning."  
  
There was a swooping sigh of relief among the three older proxies. Jackie even seemed like she muttered a joke at Emmet's expense, seeing as how Emmet elbowed her in response. Aisha physically put herself between the two of them to keep the sick burns at a mininum.  
  
Splendor exhaled softly.  
  
He had been holding his breath for a while, and he was definitely thankful that things were apparently balancing themselves back out quickly after the fright. He couldn't help but notice, however, that Ginger was being a bit quiet.  
  
He was tempted to ask her if she was actually okay or not, but he had to keep the peace ongoing. He would definitely ask her later if they had a quiet moment alone as uncle and niece.  
  
For now, though, there was breakfast to be made, and a door to be fixed.

 


End file.
